


Paradoxes Are Only Relative

by threnodyjones



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Daddy Issues, F/M, Friends are awesome, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threnodyjones/pseuds/threnodyjones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard Stark somehow ends up in the modern day.  Pretty much nobody thinks this is awesome, because hello, have <i>you</i> ever had to deal with Tony and his issues?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You are fucking shitting me."

Bruce looked over to Tony on the stool beside him, who had actually taken out his phone to read whatever JARVIS must have sent him. Because if there was one thing Bruce had immediately understood, it was that only JARVIS could garner Tony's instant attention, based on the variation of buzz or tonal pulse he sent to whatever device of Tony's was most readily available.

Tony's reactions weren't subtle (nor were they meant to be, because who, other than the people he cared about, spent enough time in his presence to notice the difference?), so it had been easy for Bruce to notice the seed from the husk. 

He wasn't looking so well, actually. Gone a shade pallid, a hair drawn, all of it quickly being eclipsed by one of his more public personas. The screen had changed, text floating across it rapidly, and whatever it was JARVIS was telling him, it wasn't good.

Bruce glanced at the whiskey in his hand, cubes floating harmlessly. Drink/concern. Drink/concern. Drink. Drink would probably be more helpful. His own phone hadn't made any intimation of sentience, meaning this was not just personal to Tony, but personal enough that JARVIS was being mostly discreet. Mostly, in that JARVIS knew where they were, that Tony was currently in Bruce's immediate presence, and still delivered whatever it was to Tony, knowing Bruce would pick up on the seriousness.

(JARVIS had an incredibly circumspect way of asking for help when he wanted it. Information could be leaked in methods attributable to bad programming, if it weren't for the fact that the only people he seemed to ask for help were too smart to fall for such a blatant falsehood. You know. Those who had met JARVIS. And who knew Tony and his issues.

Also? JARVIS would be terrifying if he weren't on the side of _them_.) 

Tony swiped and tapped a few times and then held his phone to his ear.

"Charles! Hey! So, not going to make the meeting tomorrow morning. I mean, I could be wrong, but let's be real, I'm usually not. And while I could have sent JARVIS in an LMD, I thought that would be... disrespectful? Non-kosher? Not that I could really see you holding kosher, even if you were, you've always struck me as a prosciutto man, myself. But the sentiment holds and since I actually like you as an individual, I thought I should give you a heads up. I could maybe make later in the day if your schedule still allows," JARVIS suddenly buzzed again, and Tony glanced at the screen quickly before covering a grimace, "but let's not assume that. Do you have anything next week? Unless JARVIS is okay? Fine! Everything's great! Malibu's awesome. You ever been here? You should try it. Good air. Room's always available for you if you want it. JARVIS, make note of that. Catch you then. Hey, tell Jean she's still totally hot and her paper on biomolecular site-directed mutagenesis made both me and Banner want to have her little mutated babies so long as there were multiple orgasms involved. You know what? Skip the multiple orgasms part. We'd both be good - you'd be good, right?" Tony looked at Bruce for quick confirmation and honestly? Bruce couldn't help but nod, because, yeah, Jean... "We'd be good even without the mulgasms. Let her know that. We're there for her service."

Bruce saw Tony deftly cover any outward amusement. 

JARVIS buzzed again. Tony ignored this one.

"Same to you," he said, his tone utterly serious, but there was a bitter smirk influencing his expression. He checked the screen, audio conversation obviously finished.

Bruce finished the rest of his drink in two harsh gulps. Top shelf didn't mean shit if you drank it too quickly. The last swallow was settling down his throat when Tony looked at him, Iron Man serious, face frozen to hide any reactions to whatever Bruce might say back.

"Do me a favor," Tony said, deadpan, in that he was worried and earnest.

Bruce reached for the leftovers of Tony's scotch - his mouth rebelled a bit at it, yuck, scotch - and swallowed it down, fortification for what was coming. He had a feeling the mellow would be needed.

"Hit me," he said. 

"Dirty dance with me."

"How dirty are we talking here?"

"PG... 15. 16 at most. Seriously, not worse than the movie. Probably."

"Wasn't the movie 13?" he asked, mostly just to heckle.

"We're in California. Adapt."

Yeah. "For the record, if it's not miraculous, I'm selling to TMZ."

"Your own personal baby Jesus will come hand delivered in the morning. Or at least something equivalent. Scout's honor."

"Two, my reputation is in no way attached to this. JARVIS, let me know if that's acceptable to you."

Because JARVIS was more trustworthy at this than Tony, even if not by much. His phone and Tony's both buzzed at the same time, the vibration of his charging the skin of his hip.

"Fine, whatever. Let's dance, Robbie."

Bruce closed his eyes and let himself be tugged into a mass of moving people, girding himself for the inevitable photos (not unexpected) and publicity (naturally) and anger (because that was, of course, what this was really about). He'd eventually figure out where it was directed. 

"I hate you."

 

Bruce woke to a dark room and cool sheets. He didn't open his eyes right away, welcoming the dark and the quiet as he waited for his brain to decide if it wanted to fall back asleep or wake up for the day.

He lay for probably a few minutes, breathing shallowly into the pillow supported in his arms before his lungs made the decision for him. A long deep breath, long deep release. Then three, two, one...

"Good morning, Dr. Banner. It is Thursday the 23rd, 8:12am. The temperature is currently 49° with an expected high of 62°. Current conditions are foggy, expected to burn off to partly cloudy skies. You have three messages, two currently awaiting your response: Dr. Salenczek inquired whether you would be amenable to meeting for lunch during break today; Colonel Rhodes wonders if you would like to join him with Tony at the automobile auction they are attending; finally, Miss Potts requests next time you lose your shirt. Until such time, she has chosen one of the undoctored photos for display on her desktop."

Bruce chuckled silently. "Those two deserve each other."

"Miss Potts does tend to show an appreciation towards the male form, much to Mr. Stark's periodic dismay."

That made him laugh out loud.

"What time's the auction?" he asked.

"Hours are from 10am to 4 this afternoon. Mr. Stark has been paying particular attention to the listing for a 'Hawkeye Special', 1924 Bentley. I estimate this lot won't go up until at least 2:12pm, however he has yet to notice the late addition of a 1937 Squire Drophead Coupe, which will almost certainly gain his attention."

The cars meant little to him, but the tone said it all. "Already having Dummy and Butterfingers make space for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir. He is nothing if not predictable."

"What's my conference schedule like today, again?" Tony was technically also in attendance, in that Bruce had made him pick up his own damned badge and papers in person, but he was really only interested in the after-session gatherings where he could more effectively troll and/or pounce on the people who had caught his notice. Bruce couldn't disagree. More real science and discussion took place once the booze started flowing, no matter the conference.

JARVIS rattled off his preferred sessions.

"How long from the convention center to the auction?"

"42 minutes in traffic."

"Jesus, I hate L.A."

"Indeed."

Bruce rolled over and looked at the bland ceiling. Everything upstairs was bland and zenned and Feng Shui'd out the wazoo per overpriced California decorators' specifications. A vague effort had been made to convert this room into something more his style - translation something vaguely resembling personality enhancing the room - but since Bruce wasn't here more than a couple weeks out of the year, he'd pressed for the 'Jesus, Stark, if you're really insisting it's mine, I'll decorate it myself' angle. He had, sort of, random things he'd picked up around the area, but it was the tower and mansion he called home more than anything else.

"Okay, yes to Salenczek, drop everything post lunch, I'll hit the auction with them. See if you can get a copy of the 3 o'clock presentation for me. Schedule both of us for the post 5:30 receptions, and if he bitches, remind him he's the wind through my trees, and also: there's biophysics involved. Thank you, JARVIS."

"Of course."

Bruce got up and headed for the closet.

"So, what's the butcher's bill from last night?" he asked, tossing shirt on bed as he pantsed up.

The two middle window panes darkened some and JARVIS's artwork started floating by. 

"Thus far 7 publications have published pictures from 3 separate photographers. Given Mr. Starks's past proclivities and factoring in his work as Iron Man, it is likely we can expect up to another 20 sources to take interest, including social and tech blogs. With the exception of Page Six, most mainstream papers will undoubtedly pay little heed, as this was rather tame. You will also be pleased to know TMZ has given the story some regard, should you come to feel last night was not magical enough for your tastes."

Bruce snorted out a laugh, flipping lackadaisically through the pictures. 

"You did a great job with these. Excellent photoshopping skills you have there, JARVIS. They're really good." They really were. Bruce's jawline had been shaved, cutting it from square- to heart-shaped. His monochrome shirt now had a few bold stripes running through it, his hair was a different style, and he was wearing pants cut in a way he could only hope to God he never had to experience in real life.

"Thank you, Dr. Banner. I was able to intercept all images in transit to the agents or publications and alter them before arrival. I will continue to monitor for the next few days."

That was just JARVIS bragging. Not that Bruce didn't smile, because JARVIS deserved it. It really was grade-A work, all around.

"I don't know why you put up with Tony, JARVIS. You could do so much better."

"He does on occasion provide excellent entertainment value, Sir."

"That, he does," he drawled. He grabbed his wallet and stuck it in his pants, then checked his phone. "So do I get to know what got Tony's panties in a twist last night, or is it being kept on the Q.T.?"

JARVIS paused, which made Bruce pause. Because JARVIS didn't pause unless he meant it, meaning he hadn't been told not to tell, but was deciding whether or not to tell. Or drama. It was either-or with JARVIS, most likely the or since JARVIS's computational power was psychotic.

"At 11:42 last night Howard Stark was pulled forward from approximately the afternoon of November 12th, 1972 by means unknown. He was immediately detected and sequestered by SHIELD."

Bruce stilled at that, hands frozen on his shirt buttons, ice running from head to toe with that innate biological drive to runrun _run_ pushing all his blood to his legs. JARVIS was quiet for the moment. "Okay. Not a joke."

"Unfortunately not. Agent Coulson was kind enough to keep me informed, against Director Fury's wishes, as Agent Coulson believes keeping Stark Industries aware of this development is far more beneficial in the long run. Director Fury has had no comment regarding Agent Coulson's actions. Currently Howard Stark is in the company of Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov; three physicists and two engineers have been tasked to the current dilemma for both determination and solution."

Bruce breathed out a deep, thick sigh. "Have you sent my response to Rhodey yet?"

"I can amend it, Doctor, it hasn't been read yet."

"Ask him if he wants to trade, car auction for drunk science."

Because the thing was, Bruce recognized issues from 500 yards away. And frankly, given his own upbringing, he had no desire to hear about Tony's issues with his father, unless Tony felt the need to talk about them personally. In which case Bruce would be all ears.

But Tony didn't, and hadn't, and most likely wouldn't.

And Bruce could circle wagons as good as anybody.


	2. Rhodey - 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Rhodey, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel I need to offer both an apology and an explanation for how long it has taken to update, and with such a paltry update as well.
> 
> I legitimately didn't realize, until it was pointed out to me last month, that I hadn't updated since last June. I really thought I started posting this in early October.
> 
> I'm an incredibly slow writer to begin with. I usually have stories completely plotted in my head, but getting it down in writing is a different matter. Too much of a perfectionist, or what have you.
> 
> But then, in October, a family member died. People close to me know I'm quite estranged from my biological family. My cousin was the last of my biological family I had any sort of closeness to. When my grandmother died in 2004, he and I became penpals, and he ended up becoming the closest confidant I had in my family.
> 
> His death, expected as it was due to his age, threw me for a loop. Especially, because _this is how my family fucking operates_ , I didn't find out he'd died until a week after the fact.
> 
> I just... haven't felt like writing. According to my iPad, it was about 4 months before I even opened Pages again.
> 
> I'm not going to promise I'm going to do better. I'm at least opening docs again. Doing a smattering of writing. Which will hopefully turn in to more.
> 
> I will promise that this won't be completely abandoned. I'm still working on a story I started in 1997 which is now 175,000 words and growing. At the very least, especially because I know what it is like to follow MIA WIPs, if push comes to shove, I would post the stuff I already have written along with a synopsis of how it was supposed to go. Heck, let me know and I'll email you spoilers, because I get it.
> 
> As it stands, I have the horrible practice of writing completely out of order. I had originally hoped to post 6 chapters in total, each a different viewpoint. But given how long it's been, I'm going to do something probably annoying: post in semi-finished chunks. When all is said and done, I'll clean up the AO3 doc to fit the way it was originally intended, but for now, I'm just going to post chunklets until this is finished.
> 
> For anyone still following, or coming across this, again, I am sorry for the very, very long wait.

A 0602 text from Tony really woke him up from the 0600 doze he'd allowed himself given this was a day off. Jim half wondered if Tony had programmed the text to arrive right after he'd woken, but, reaching for the phone, he generously dismissed the thought. Tony more often than not kept the same hours Jim did, and while pranking on that level would never be past Tony, it seemed a little much given they were hanging out today.

_Change of plans. B/F @ hotel? Reg @ desk. Put on sciencey phys hat you left at Maclaurin and play w/ geeks._

Jim scoffed and started typing.

_I'm not the one who left something punching his v-card. Time?_

Tony's response was almost immediate.

_Now. Jesus I miss Maclaurin. That place was good to me. Accomplished women do it for me. Just ask Pepper._

Before Jim could respond, another text arrived. _Better yet, don't. Forget I wrote that. Bro to bro._

_N/C_ , he replied, leaving it to Tony if he meant no comment or not covered. He headed to the shower, washed, dressed and mapped the directions to the hotel. Traffic got him there just after seven. Inside the lobby was a desk proclaiming check-in for the biophysics conference, and Rhodey picked up his freshly printed details.

He wondered, briefly, how much this 'breakfast' was costing and then abandoned it since Tony was, sadly, a firm believer in trickle-down economics. Then again, given how much Tony usually tossed around, it was inevitable some of it trickled.

He was directed to the ballroom, and it didn't take any time to find Tony. He was keeping his silence at a table in court to an obviously distinguished Someone, plate of finger fruit in front of him. Jim watched him absently pop a chunk of cantaloupe into his mouth as he headed to the buffet. He filled a dish with split portions of protein, carbs, and fruits, keeping an eye on the table. Tony was pretty obviously focused on a man two chairs from the Distinguished Someone.

It was actually pretty funny to see from a distance. Tony was a rock star at weapons and electronics conferences, a god at robotics conferences (never mind that nobody attending them knew or truly understood that Tony was _literally a robotics god_ \- Dummy had been such an _infant_ when he was debuted, and now he was a pretty seasoned teenager, at the least. Forget about JARVIS.) But here Tony was being treated almost as persona non grata by the attendants.

People who had obviously never met Tony Fucking Stark.

Deep wallet, shallow brain.

Jim set his plate on the table at the seat next to Tony's, sliding into the chair. Tony's only acknowledgement of his presence was to pour him a glass of water and filch a pepper shaker so it could sit between them. Jim grabbed a salt from his other side.

He settled in to listen and eat. A few minutes on GMO and his brain was started drifting to conversations at other tables, enough to be startled when his phone vibrated.

_This guy is full of air. If B were here he'd be deep breathing all over the place and correcting the jackass ever so kindly._

_Where is B, btw. thought he keeping you out of trb this wk._

_Sleeping off last night. It was Magical._

He didn't dare look at Tony, because that might give away that he actually contemplated the comment for half a second. It took that long to remember Tony wouldn't brag like that about somebody he respected like he did Banner. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Tony might convince Banner into his bed, but he wouldn't brag about it.

He should start trawling TMZ now. Tony wasn't smug like that unless pictures were involved.

 _Magic is for ppl who can't do real science_ , he replied.

_Why won't you give up AF and marry me?_

_Allergic to aggravated piper rufus._

Tony very deliberately closed his phone, set it down face-side, took another bite of fruit and focused on the table conversation, dour, serious face in place.

Score.

So was Google when he checked it, three prominent pictures of Tony dancing against a younger man at some nightclub or another. He was going to guess that was an altered Dr. Banner. So. Okay. Tony was looking to create some havoc.

Jim ran through things in his mind. Nothing big had happened recently that he knew of, nothing big was coming up, other than 'J time' as he and Pepper referred to in private, far, far away from any Stark related devices and usually when tipsy-to-drunk. But that wouldn't be big enough to make Tony involve Banner like this, since Tony really did like Banner, and Jim thought of that as the equivalent of involving himself. Banner was obviously disguised. Personal. Something personal not involving Pepper, not involving the Avengers. Couldn't be work related, since SIA had the annual conference in a few months and Tony wouldn't jeopardize that.

Jim decided to text Bruce about the car show.

The room eventually started clearing out, people first breaking into individualized clicks, and then breaking further as more started drifting out the doors, towards the conference rooms, he assumed.

Over half their table vanished with the Someone, leaving a much quieter atmosphere. Tony stole one of Jim's strips of bacon while he innocuously questioned his target, and Jim let it go. Soon enough, Tony feigned boredom with the conversation, classic Stark stealth interview technique, wait for it...

"Sorry, being rude. This is Colonel Jim Rhodes, USAF. It was Dr. Pershing, right? Newly minted," he said directly to Jim. "Remember those days, when everything was fresh and bright? Listen, have a good conference. You should see LA while you're here. Get some sun."

The guy took it as the dismissal it was, though Tony had timed it well since a 5 minute warning chime sounded.

"Get some sun, see if you like it. Move to California and come play at the LA SI campus," he teased Tony when they were almost alone in the ballroom. Poor kid had no clue he'd been interviewing the whole breakfast and had just been hired.

"He'd do well in Columbus, too. JARVIS, tell HR to put together a package, send it out next week. LA preferable, but we're willing to negotiate." JARVIS buzzed Tony's phone. Tony ate his last melon chunk. "So, sunshine, what sessions are we crashing?"

Six and a half hours, three sessions, and two cars later Bruce had joined them at the auction.

Tony swung them around towards the Porsche with metallic gold paint almost as soon as Banner found them.

"Wha'd'ya think?" Tony asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and eyeing the car critically.

Jim didn't say anything, just waited and watched for Tony to flick his eyes towards Bruce for a response.

"It's very gold," Banner said, blandly. Jim pulled his game face to stop from smiling. One of the highlights of meeting Bruce had been watching Tony need to constantly _work_ for every single reaction he could get out of him. The man had all the placidity and aridness of an erg at rest, and Tony was like a little kid gleefully trying to stomp footprints into the ground.

Jim actually liked that analogy. Bruce Banner: beware of sandstorms. 

"It's yours," Tony responded, not willing to be out-blanded just yet.

"No." Statement.

"Too late." More statement.

"I don't want it." Fact.

"Too bad." Matched. Love-love. "Besides, I figured you'd want something to get you in the spirit."

Bruce's eyes tightened the tiniest, smallest amount. Point to Tony. Who kept talking. Very unsportsmanlike. But Banner had obviously caught on to something.

"And you've got six weeks to break in this bad boy. Then it's you, me, Rhodey, and America's most interesting city, because _Rhodey_ knows how to _party_."

"Three hurricanes and anybody knows how to party," Banner replied, something darker and heavier lurking in the background despite no change to his posture, or tone, or expression. Jim would love to know how he did it, flipping the instinctual fear switch in someone _without_ _doing anything noticeable_.

"I'm starting to doubt that, Bluebell."

"I'm not going to New Orleans."

"How is New Orleans any different than Calcutta, São Paulo, or Jarkata?"

"Uh, for one: you're going to be there. I think _that's_ enough said."

Tony looked too pleased by that. "This is true. Can't back out. Patrick's already started opening the apartment. And you know what he's like if I change my mind."

Jim looked a bit closer between the two of them at that, and oh. Didn't look like Patrick was going to be a long term employee of SIA. "This is why people promote incompetence," he said.

Tony gave him a flat look and walked away while Banner barely tried to cover a smile which bloomed the further Tony got from them.

Jim looked at Banner who seemed to be caught between amusement at Tony's string of PAs and an honest... something over the car. He debated a second before finally needing to know too badly.

"So, I'll admit I didn't get the connection between Tony asking me if I was free Mardi Gras week and then him seeing this car and rambling about kismet and you coming with us," he said to Bruce.

Bruce took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at the car. Anyone else and it would be a sigh, or a calming gesture.

"My favorite color is purple," he said, turning to face Jim.

It took Jim a moment to get it, to string the connection together, and when it suddenly hit he couldn't stop the laugh, couldn't completely cover it or suppress it.

"I'm sorry," he said more laughter erupting along with apologies; it was so wildly inappropriate, so fucking Tony, and before long he was belly laughing at how awful it was.

And fuck Bruce Banner and his poker face, because Jim had been around him just long enough that he could tell Banner was laughing behind that face, that he thought the joke was just as inappropriately funny as Jim did.

"Hey! I bought the car. How come I don't get a laugh like that?" came Tony's voice as he swung back into their orbit.

"Because you bought the car, jackass," Banner said, still blissfully, utterly deadpan. Jim loved the guy, was honestly happy he'd been given the opportunity to meet him.


End file.
